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MY MOUNTAIN TOPS 



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MY MOUNTAIN TOPS 

The Romance of a Journey 
Across the Canadian Rockies 



BY 

LALAH RUTH RANDLE 




NEW YORK 
THE NEALE PUBLISHING COMPANY 






Copyright, 1912, by 
The Neale Publishing Company 



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A r\ r» /-k >f yt 



TO 

ANGIE AND SOPHIE WEIR, 

WHOSE DELIGHTFUL COMPANIONSHIP ON A 

MOST DELIGHTFUL JOURNEY FURNISHED 

MUCH OF THE INSPIRATION FOR THE 

STORY, THIS LITTLE BOOK IS 

AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED 

BY THE AUTHOR 



CONTENTS 

CHAPTER PAGE 

I The Arrival 9 

II Banff the Beautiful ... 20 

III Lake Louise 36 

IV The Spirit of the Rockies . . 51 
V My Mountain Tops . , . , 62 



MY MOUNTAIN TOPS 



THE ARRIVAL 

It was Sunday morning, a beautiful, sunny, 
transparent Sunday morning in June, when 
grandmother, mother, and I reached Banff. 
June? Yes, but not the warm, balmy, 
clover-clad, "knee-deep in June" kind of day 
that most of us conjure up and hang on the 
walls of our mental art galleries when the 
word June is spoken, but a June day of the 
Canadian Rockies, beautiful, sunny, trans- 
parent, it is true, but cool, pine-breathed, and 
vivid, — the kind of day that makes your 
warm coat comfortable, gives your cheeks a 
rosy tingle, makes you look up at the sky — 
and the mountains — and feel grateful for 
life. And on such a day as this we came to 
Banff. 

I had been up since daybreak. The ex- 
citement of getting somewhere, after two 
days of uninterrupted travel, had awakened 
me early, and after gymnastically dressing 



lo MY MOUNTAIN TOPS 

myself in the Ladies' Dressing-Room of the 
Pullman Car, I had gone out onto the plat- 
form to catch my first glimpse of the Ca- 
nadian Rockies, with their glistening peaks 
and snow-filled crevices sparkling in the early 
morning sunlight. It was all so wonderful, 
and there seemed so much to see — each second 
brought a marvelous change of view — that I 
was almost impatient with the train for 
hurrying along so quickly and would have 
stopped it had I been able. I wished that I 
dared pull the bell-rope — but prudence pre- 
vented — and on we flew — to more beauties 
and more wonderful vistas. I rather en- 
joyed being alone, too, those first few min- 
utes in the mountains — and it was right then 
and there, standing silently in the vestibuled 
platform of that Canadian Pacific train, 
breathing the fresh morning air, that the 
Spirit of the Rockies touched my soul and I 
felt their splendor and calm. 

All too soon mother came to the door and 
called me. It was late, she said, — grand- 
mother was waiting, we were nearing Banff, 
— and we must hurry if we were to have our 
breakfasts on the train. 



THE ARRIVAL ii 

All was excitement, for at least half of the 
occupants of the train were preparing, as were 
we, to alight at Banff. The conductor was 
busily trying to identify passengers that he 
might return their many-folded long green 
tickets correctly. Porters were busy carry- 
ing out bags, energetically brushing away 
even the most infinitesimal particle of dust, 
and incidentally holding out their officious 
hands for the not-to-be-neglected fee. In 
the dining-car waiters were careening along 
in perilous haste trying to serve some late 
riser, and we and all the other alighting pas- 
sengers were collecting our bags and suit- 
cases, hunting for our mislaid gloves and 
wondering how many would get off and 
whether we would be disappointed in Banff, 
of which we had heard so many delightful 
things. 

However, before I proceed farther with 
my story, I must turn around and go back 
a little ways, to tell you something of the 
rather strange party that we made. Did you 
ever hear of three generations going travel- 
ing together, Seventy-Five, Forty-Five, and 
Twenty? Such we were and it must have 



12 MY MOUNTAIN TOPS 

been a trifle unusual, for people noticed us 
everywhere and sometimes spoke about it in 
the friendly way that fellow travelers have. 
We were a merry party, too, for Seventy- 
Five is as young at heart as Twenty, and 
Forty-Five looks thirty. It runs in our fam- 
ily to stay young, to hold on to the joy of 
life, to keep our youthful enthusiasm, to be 
children at heart, and to look on all things 
with interested and happy eyes, " even down 
to old age." 

Take grandmother, for instance. She's as 
tiny as a little sprite, with soft gray hair 
parted and crimped smoothly down on each 
side, a few wrinkles — very few, though — 
and, despite the fact that she isn't young 
in years, and although she wears black and 
a little widow's bonnet, her eyes are as blue 
as the blue of June skies, and her mouth 
smiles in a really girlish way. Grandmother 
always gets acquainted with people, from the 
highest to the lowest, wherever she sees them, 
for she is old enough to have the privilege of 
talking to the strangers who smile in her di- 
rection, and people always like her so much 
that they are flattered when she does open 



THE ARRIVAL 13 

a conversation. She likes to travel, grand- 
mother does, and she accepts the inevitable 
discomforts just as cheerfully as the pleas- 
ures. She doesn't mind getting into a 
crowded car at all, she says, — an experience 
from which most of us poor mortals shrink, — 
"for some one always gives her a seat," and 
the most disagreeable of men tips his hat when 
grandmother smiles. No wonder I She's 
as feminine as can be, irresistibly charming, 
as up-to-date in her ideas as mother and I, 
and more popular than either of us. And 
the secret of all her popularity is just this: 
that life to her is still a cup running over 
with happiness, — the ocean is just as im- 
petuous and wraithlike, the mountains are 
just as serene, and people are just as inter- 
esting as in the days of her girlhood, long, 
long years ago. 

Mother is different, but perfectly splen- 
did! I'm as proud of her as I can be, for 
she's large and handsome and altogether mag- 
nificent! She's an aristocrat, through and 
through, but not a snobbish one, and she 
does know how to do things to perfection. I 
really think that mother could manage 



14 MY MOUNTAIN TOPS 

all the presidential candidates of both parties 
at a house party for a week and not be trou- 
bled by the slightest coldness on the part of 
any of her guests, — and she'd do it as 
graciously as the Queen of Heaven. Nat- 
urally, it's no trouble to her to manage 
porters, conductors, waiters, cab-drivers, hotel 
clerks, and bell-boys, like the head of a big 
corporation. They simply stand around in 
awe when mother speaks. Mother's in 
favor of the suffrage, but she's not a suf- 
fragette. She wants me to be sure to make 
that distinction, for it's a vital one, she says, 
and she doesn't want to be misrepresented. 

When I told one of the boys at college 
this spring that we were going to travel in 
the summer, he said impetuously, "Jeru- 
salem, Lizette, — why don't you take Noah 
and the Ark along I" And then he blushed 
and was terribly embarrassed and begged my 
pardon effusively. I wasn't insulted, for I 
knew he didn't know Grossmutter and Ma 
Mere. Just a few days after that experi- 
ence I explained our plans to a young college 
professor who does know them — and he 
said. 



THE ARRIVAL 15 

"How perfectly ideal, Miss Lizette ! You 
couldn't have better company !" And thafs 
exactly the truth. 

It's a little hard to write about one's self. 
One is apt to be self-conscious, so I think 
I'll just tell you how I'm described on 
my ticket. "Young, dark hair, blue eyes, 
fair complexion, slender." I'll add to that 
I've been in college three years, that I like 
English literature best and languages next 
and that I sing, not much, but just enough 
to cheer myself up when I'm blue, to make 
mother and grandmother happy, and to please 
Bob, — -Bob Ferris, who's a doctor. Last of 
all, we all live, — Seventy-Five, Forty-five, 
and Twenty, — in a lovely, old-fashioned, 
suburban house in the good, good state of 
Ohio. 

At last the train stopped at Banff, at a 
dear little, long, low-lying, log station right 
in the midst of the mountains, and we were 
hustled out, grandmother, mother, two suit- 
cases, two traveling bags, one umbrella, and 
I. The station platform was alive with 
people, some getting off and some starting 
on again, while others, including a merry 



i6 MY MOUNTAIN TOPS 

bunch of Canadian boys and girls, had evi- 
dently come down to see the train come in, — 
to view the newer comers and to wave adieux 
to friends who were going on. I felt almost 
one of them, for before I looked at the moun- 
tains or the station or anything, I glanced 
around to see which ones of our fellow pas- 
sengers were going to be with us. 

Sure enough, there were the six school- 
teachers, from Ohio, too, the nicest teachers 
I ever met, in trim tailored suits and jaunty 
little hats. We had met them on the train 
and had found every one of them interesting. 
Two of them were college girls and they 
knew some fraternity men whom I had once 
met at a dance, so we became friends right 
away. They were all going as far as San 
Francisco together and there one of them, 
the loveliest girl in a gray suit, was going to 
sail for China as a missionary, and the others 
were going to visit relatives or friends in 
various parts of the West. I was so glad 
that we weren't going to lose them yet, for 
they were just what mother and I agreed 
school-teachers ought to be, neat, bright, in- 
teresting, capable, fond of a good time, well- 



THE ARRIVAL 17 

informed, and above all, happy. They 
weren't "grinds" or "old-maidish" at ali. 

Two of the brides and grooms were getting 
off, too, the Little Bride and Groom, and the 
Old Bride and Groom. The school-teachers 
had had fun on the train teasing the Little 
Bride, for she so obviously was a bride. I 
knew it the minute I saw her, — in the dining- 
car it was, — and grandmother said that she 
did, too. She was little and blonde, with 
big brown eyes and charming soft little 
ways. And the Little Groom! He really 
wasn't Htlle at all — but he was very young, 
perhaps twenty-two, and it's a good thing he 
was married and that I happened to remem- 
ber Bob, or there would have been a flirta- 
tion on mother's hands at once. He was 
big and brown and elegant-looking, in a 
rough blue suit, but he was tremendously 
serious and he seemed to feel the responsi- 
bility of having a wife greatly. I found 
out that they were from Chicago, — the Little 
Bride told me in the dressing-room while she 
was dressing for dinner! Yes she did, she 
dressed for dinner on the train and it was too 
cute for anything to see her enter the dining- 



i8 MY MOUNTAIN TOPS 

car in her dress-up clothes. One afternoon 
I saw her take a nap on the Little Groom's 
shoulder, too, and he sat up as big and bold 
as a lion and looked out at the chance (^) 
passers-by as they sauntered back to the 
Observation car with much the same expres- 
sion that I've always imagined Hiawatha 
wore when he brought home Laughing 
Water. I did so approve of the Little Bride 
and Groom, and mother said that she was 
almost ashamed of grandmother and me be- 
cause we smiled at them so much. Grand- 
mother has an eye for romance, too. 

Now the Old Bride and Groom, — they 
were so different. I suppose they had to take 
a wedding journey, for they were rich and it 
was June, but they did mar the sesthetic 
aspect of wedding journeys terribly. They 
had a compartment, and I was glad of that, 
for we didn't have to see so much of them 
and they really stayed in it most of the time. 
Now I don't know any of the things that I'm 
going to tell about them, — but I think that 
they're true. I think that she had been di- 
vorced. She had ugly red hair and a load 
of diamonds on her homely hands and she 



THE ARRIVAL 19 

looked as though her disposition had suf- 
fered at the hands of someone. As for the 
Old Groom, he did look so thoroughly in- 
capable and as though he couldn't take care 
of himself that I wondered how he had ever 
managed to get married. I do like a capable 
man and the Old Groom did look so ineffi- 
cient, with his lazy manner and his faded 
blue eyes. 

Now you know something more about me ! 
I have a very vivid imagination ! 

All these people, and a typical American 
traveling man who had tried to force an 
opening into our group, only to be prevented 
by mother's dignified manner, and scores of 
others, got off the train at Banff, but the 
dearest girl from Kentucky and her mother 
went on. I threw her a kiss from the plat- 
form as the train pulled out, — and I've won- 
dered since whether I'll ever see her again 
this side of the Gates of Pearl. Perhaps 
not, for I didn't get her name, and she may 
be anywhere now. That's the sad thing 
about traveling; after all, we're all "pil- 
grims and strangers," and it's only a moment 
that we tarry, then part — and hurry on. 



II 

BANFF THE BEAUTIFUL 

The bus for the Banff Springs Hotel was 
waiting, and mother and grandmother were 
already inside it when I turned away from 
the fast-vanishing train and my little Ken- 
tucky girl. I hurried across the platform 
and took the only remaining seat inside. 
There were the Old Bride and Groom, 
sour and sleepy as ever, and up on top 
where they could see everything were 
the Little Bride and Groom. The school- 
teachers, mother said, had gone to an- 
other hotel, and we didn't see them until the 
next day. It was sometime before the bag- 
gage was all identified and counted (there 
must have been at least a hundred pieces 
bound for the Banff Springs Hotel), but at 
last all was ready, the driver cracked his 
whip, and off we went. 

Oh, the freshness of that drive, down the 
winding road from the station to the little 
town, then past the stores and hotels all so 

20 



BANFF THE BEAUTIFUL 21 

vividly English and each one decorated with 
bunting and flags. We had not realized un- 
til then that we had left the "land of the 
free and the home of the brave," for most of 
that Canada through which we had passed 
had looked very much like Minnesota and 
North Dakota — and the plains and the 
mountains are God's everywhere. Here, 
however, in the habitations of men we were 
reminded that we were in a foreign land and 
under the dominion of King George, who 
only the week before had been crowned King 
of the mighty British Empire, far away in 
Merrie England. Here were the banners 
that told of his sway, and here and there the 
very names on the store and hotel windows 
spoke of his power, — King Edward Hotel, 
Alexandria Hotel, and George's Way. I 
had never been in a "foreign country" before, 
and in spite of my great admiration for 
things British, I found myself longing to 
wave a little American flag and to shout 
"Yankee Doodle" with gusto. Alas, I had 
no flag, and I weakened, as I often do, from 
the thing that my impulse directed. 

We were climbing all the time, past a 



22 MY MOUNTAIN TOPS 

sanitarium where one would think the most 
ill would recover immediately, so clean and 
wholesome it looked in that fresh morning 
air, past another hotel, and then, turning a 
corner suddenly, we came to a yard all aglow 
with the unfettered warmth of California 
poppies! They were everywhere in that 
yard, rubbing noses with the house, crowd- 
ing out the grass, pushing themselves out onto 
the sidewalk and on to the next yard, 
glorious-glowing! Can you see the dew on 
them sparkling in the early morning sun- 
light? A picture of gold*? 

On we went, and up, and soon we were 
really in the midst of the mountains. Pine 
trees grew on every hand, pointing like 
church spires toward the skies, unbending, 
firm, yet giving forth the incense of the 
woods. A tiny stream ran beside the road, 
clear as crystal, and here and there a chip- 
munk rushed away, or a bird almost brushed 
the horses' backs, — on and up — through the 
wonder of "God's Out-of -Doors," two miles, 
— and then we caught our first glimpse of the 
roofs of the hotel. 

Can I tell you how it looks, that hotel in 



BANFF THE BEAUTIFUL 23 

the mountains^ Like a flaming jewel in a 
dark green velvet background, — a cluster of 
jewels, — emeralds, rubies, diamonds, — for it 
is of many colors I Like a rose, perhaps, — 
pink, and tinged with yellow, dropped on a 
sea of green I It only adds to the natural 
scene and seems to fit in to its own place like 
the trees and the rocks themselves. In front 
of it, the winding road and the mountains, — 
back, the wonderful valley of the Bow River, 
with its serpentine turns and twists and its 
circlet of mountains. It is wonderful — and 
so far past my powers of description that I 
wonder I attempt it at all. Grandmother 
took my hand as we came up the road to the 
hotel and held it fast. Then she sighed, and 
said softly, 

"Lizette, Lizette! T will lift up mine 
eyes to the hills from whence cometh my 
strength — ^my strength.' " 

Dear grandmother! I knew what her 
thoughts were. At least, I had a peep 
within her soul and that peep and the scene 
itself made me feel as though I had entered 
the place of the Holy of Holies. 

Another turn and we pulled up under the 



24 MY MOUNTAIN TOPS 

porte-cochere of the hotel. Rows of brown- 
faced little Japs awaited us and our bags — 
and we entered the busy office. Mother 
registered and soon we were hurrying along 
behind one of these sly little brown boys to 
our rooms, which, due to mother's omni- 
present cleverness, — or luck, — faced the 
valley and the river, the loveliest view 
of all. Grandmother seemed almost like 
one in a dream and after our baggage was 
unpacked she wanted to stay right there and 
rest and think, but mother and I objected. 
Somewhere — in the bus — or the office — or 
crossing the halls, we had heard the word 
"rotunda" and that word had had linked 
with it other words that so excited our curi- 
osity that we couldn't stay away longer. 
There is always such a feeling of adventure 
aroused in me when I reach a new place or 
visit in a strange house that I can scarcely 
restrain myself, and child-like I want to ex- 
plore, to rush into all the comers and to be 
able to cry out, with wide-spread eyes, "Here 
you are!" So we found the rotunda of the 
hotel at Banff. 

It was easily discovered, for it is the center 



BANFF THE BEAUTIFUL 25 

of the hotel home, a great family room, two 
stories high, with a gallery all around it and, 
best of all, two huge fire-places, one on either 
side, where big logs, constantly renewed by 
the busy little Japs, made an almost Yule- 
tide glow on that June day. All around the 
room were little tables, destined for after- 
noon tea, and great easy chairs and couches 
where the guests assembled to chat or to hear 
the music wafted down, twice a day, from 
the orchestra in the gallery above, — a cheer- 
ful, comfortable place — an interesting one, 
too, with the book of nature outside and the 
book of human nature inside, from which to 
study. Here we found a big snug chair for 
grandmother, where she could both toast her 
feet and gaze at the mountains, and leaving 
her there, mother and I set out for a walk. 

We had letters to mail, and perhaps some 
to receive, so we took the trail back to the 
village, along the winding road, through 
the pines, nearer now and more-embracing as 
we walked beneath them, past the California 
poppies and the sanitarium and down to the 
little village. 

As we came back, I found a path that was 



26 MY MOUNTAIN TOPS 

different, though in the same general direc- 
tion, and I insisted that we follow it. A 
little chipmunk showed it to me and I knew 
that it was right! Mother demurred, for, 
she said, "we didn't know at all where it 
would take us," and although my head told 
me she was wise, my heart followed the 
little "chippie," and I darted away I On I 
ran, and mother, half-angry, half-amused, 
followed as fast as she could ! "Das Ewige 
— Weibliche zieht uns heran!" Up and 
down we went over the rounded hillocks, for 
all the world like the Ride-the- Waves at 
Coney Island, — higher and higher, through 
the trees, brushing back bushes, jumping little 
brooklets, until mother was out of breath 
and thoroughly provoked. 

"Lizette, we must go back — at once — and 
take the right path. This is all wrong and 
we are not going toward the hotel at all." 

"Yes we are — ^ma mere — yes we are! 
Just a little farther ! Please come on !" 

On we went, — I felt sure that we were 
right, — down another hill, — a sound was 
growing louder and louder, — around a bend, 
and there we were, right at the Bow River 



BANFF THE BEAUTIFUL 27 

Falls ! Oh, the joy of adventure — of finding 
out new things and attaining to things un- 
looked for ! I felt like DeSoto when he first 
saw the "Father of Waters," and taking 
Maude Adams' Napoleon pose, I gazed — till 
mother, through the laughter that brought 
tears, begged me to stop. We had found 
something ! It was ours, as though we were 
the first who had ever seen it. 

The falls are not large, but they add a 
great deal to the weirdness and majesty of the 
scene, for they tell the ears as well as the 
eyes how great and marvelous His works 
are. Several times, while we lingered in 
Banff, I went down from the hotel, by 
another path which I found, to sit by them 
and think — and feel — and wonder — and 
perhaps too to dream day-dreams, girl-like. 
And one day as I sat there I thought of dear 
old John Muir and his love for the woods 
and the hills and the great, open places, and 
I think that I can appreciate now what he 
meant when he said : 

"Climb the mountains and get their good 
tidings. Nature's peace will flow into you 
as sunshine flows into the trees. The winds 



28 MY MOUNTAIN TOPS 

will blow their own freshness into you, and 
the storms their energy, while cares will drop 
off like autumn leaves." 

I didn't know what those lines meant when 
I learned them, a long time ago to please 
grandmother, but I do now, and "Nature's 
peace" not only "flowed into me," but all 
through me, on those mornings when I sat 
by the falls. 

One thing that makes Banff so pleasant 
is the hotel itself. The building throughout 
is as attractive and comfortable as one could 
ask and the service is delightful. There is 
an English atmosphere about the place that 
reminded mother continually of her happy 
summers in the mother country itself, and I 
was delighted with everything. 

As for the people whom we met — can you 
imagine how an American girl would enjoy 
seeing an English hotel filled with English 
and Canadian guests'? Banff is the summer 
rendezvous of many of the British visitors in 
America and there they feel at home almost 
as truly as in Merrie England itself. After 
lunch, while the orchestra played on the bal- 



BANFF THE BEAUTIFUL 29 

cony of the rotunda I wanted nothing better 
than to sit in a corner and watch the people. 
First, there were the English girls, with vivid 
complexions and big shoes, who sat demurely 
by their mothers and who seemed frozen into 
a kind of genteelly petrified silence at the 
mere approach of a man, — so different from 
our American girls who are usually conceited 
enough to think that the men like to hear 
them talk — and who certainly like to talk 
to men. Then there were the English men, 
with their broad accent, their equally broad 
plaids and their inevitable pipes or strong 
cigars- — and all of them so serious and even 
solemn in appearance. There were English 
married women, too, women who do talk, 
vivaciously and charmingly and in enviably 
low and beautiful voices, and English chil- 
dren, well-behaved and well-bred, but real 
children nevertheless. I almost entirely 
neglected the scenery on some days just to 
watch the people, and I have about decided, 
after all, that people are more interesting 
than even mountains and wonderful valleys, 
great and sublime though the latter are. 
(This last is not a new idea, I am aware, 



30 MY MOUNTAIN TOPS 

but it was somewhat new to me, at least in 
real force — and I set it down even at the risk 
of appearing trite.) I did enjoy the Eng- 
lish people ; they were interesting, fascinating, 
and unusual to me, but after a few days I 
longed to talk to a few Americans and I must 
confess that I wouldn't have minded seeing 
Bob. 

On the second day that we were at Banff, 
while mother and I were taking a walk, 
grandmother sat near enough, in the rotunda, 
to a group of men, who were talking and 
smoking, to hear what they were saying. 
They were discussing English politics and 
although she is ''growing older" (to use her 
expression) grandmother is especially in- 
terested in politics and she listened to every 
word. After awhile the man who sat nearest 
her said : 

"I beg your pardon, madam ! Is my cigar 
annoying you?" and that was grandmother's 
opportunity. 

"No," she replied, "but I couldn't help 
hearing what you were saying about the 
Home Rule question and I wondered " 

The men turned toward her expectantly, 



BANFF THE BEAUTIFUL 31 

and grandmother was in the midst of the dis- 
cussion! Imagine — and they were all Eng- 
lishmen, too ! After a time, as the conversa- 
tion became more personal, grandmother told 
them her name and that of her home and the 
men introduced themselves, — Mr. So and So 
of Liverpool, Mr. Such of London, Mr. X. 
of Toronto, and Lord B. of Essex. After 
that grandmother had a charming time, and 
when mother and I returned we found her 
in the center of the group, and evidently in 
the midst of a most engrossing conversation. 
Soon, however, she spied us, and we were 
introduced all around, even to the lord. Dur- 
ing the few minutes' conversation which fol- 
lowed I sat next to Mr. Such of London. 
He was a really nice-looking Englishman, 
big and self-reliant, a lace merchant, he told 
me later, and soon we were having a splendid 
time. 

"I knew you were an American girl," he 
said, "as soon as I saw you, — which was yes- 
terday noon." 

"How?" I asked. Can you imagine what 
his reply was? 

"By several things, — your clothes, the 



32 MY MOUNTAIN TOPS 

way you wear them, by your little feet, — 
your ability to talk and your assured man- 
ner." 

"Mon Dieu, as the French girls say," I 
replied. "What a lot of things !" 

Well, soon we were talking about all sorts 
of things — in the following order, as I re- 
member them, — Banff, the mountains there 
compared with the Colorado Rockies and the 
Alps, mountain people, their lonesome lives, 
the pleasures of the simple life, Russian 
peasants, Tolstoi, Ibsen, plays in general — 
and, before mother gave the cue to leave, we 
had come back to Canada and were waxing 
enthusiastic over the table d'hote dinners at 
the hotel! An English girl couldn't have 
done that in a hundred years ! 

That night the big Englishman talked and 
danced with me in the huge sun-room all 
during the long, light evening, and I've no 
doubt that many English mammas and their 
daughters were shocked beyond measure, al- 
though Ma Mere and Grossmutter sat by 
and we formed a group of four. 

The loveliest thing at Banff is the road to 



BANFF THE BEAUTIFUL 33 

the left as you leave the hotel, over the moun- 
tains, around and up for miles. The Little 
Bride told me about it. She and the Little 
Groom had ridden over it, but mother and 
I are both expert pedestrians, and one after- 
noon, between "orchestra time" and tea, we 
started out. The day was perfect, cool and 
clear, and the air absolutely transparent and 
the summer at its best. At first the road led 
through the trees, all pines, straight and so 
close together that in places they almost 
formed a jungle. In the sunlight it was 
more than beautiful, an avenue of light in 
a world of darkness, with the blue sky above 
and the plain road ahead. I tried to imagine 
how it would be at other times — in the dark, 
or during a storm — when it must be a fear- 
some, awful place, — then, in the twilight, 
and it brought to my mind the pictures of 
Rembrandt or the impressionistic paintings 
of some of the modern artists — all shadows 
and "dabs." 

A little rivulet trickled down the side of 
the road, with pebbles, clean and round, in its 
tiny bed, and on either side grew the flaming 
masses of the Indian paint brushes, vivid 



34 MY MOUNTAIN TOPS 

flowers of the Western woods. On we went, 
till we came to a turn more sudden and un- 
expected than the rest, and there we emerged 
— to The View. 

We were standing on an eyrie point, far 
up in the eastern range, and all around us 
there was silence, save for the rattle of the 
twigs under the feet of a chipmunk or a burst 
of song from the throat of a bird. Far be- 
low us was the valley, filled with pines and 
enclosing the fast-flowing river, all green and 
white with the foam and the moss-covered 
rocks — while away off, over all, just op- 
posite us, was the western range, green, 
brown, sometimes gold in the sunlight, with 
an occasional crevice filled with snow, ma- 
jestic, stupendous, old as the aeons and eter- 
nal as Time. And I thought of that dear old 
German poem that Herr Schon had us learn 
last year : 

"Still wie die Nacht, 
Tief wie das Meer, 
Soil deine Liebe sein! 

"Wenn du mich liebst, 
So wie ich dich, 
Will ich dein eigen sein. 



BANFF THE BEAUTIFUL 35 

"Heiss wie der Stahl, 
Und fest wie der Stein, 
Soil deine Liebe sein !" 

And the last part, 

'^Fest wie der Stein — fest wie der Stein" — 

("Firm as the rocks and the hills — shall be 
thy love"), rang in my soul for da)^s. 

We were back at the Elemental, — but I 
was really thinking of Bob. 



Ill 

LAKE LOUISE 

I WAS absolutely and wilfully rebellious 
when mother said that we must leave Banff 
for Lake Louise, and I declared that I would 
rather spend a month right there than to 
wander along through all the rest of Canada, 
which I felt sure wasn't half so nice, and on 
to California, which I knew would be dry and 
dusty at that season of the year. Mother 
was firm, however, — we had spent almost a 
week at Banff, — the rest of Canada and 
especially Lakes Louise and Glacier were re- 
ported to be equally beautiful, and besides, 
I must remember, she said, that we were 
traveling and not settling somewhere. 
Grandmother smiled at this, and like a good 
child, I said no more. To tell the truth, I 
had been reading, too, and I knew that the 
scenery at Lake Louise was said to be even 
more beautiful than that at Banff, but at 
Banff, in addition to the scenery, I was hav- 
ing a delightful time. I had become quite 
36 



LAKE LOUISE 37 

well acquainted with several English and Ca- 
nadian girls, and in spite of the mean things 
which I wrote about them in my last chap- 
ter, I liked them, and we had been having 
perfectly splendid walks and talks and drives 
together. 

Then, too, — second confession — Mr. Such 
had proven himself delightful, — he said he 
much preferred American to English girls — 
and he had made himself so very amiable 
and so immensely useful to us all that even 
mother had somewhat relaxed and was 
letting him see to all sorts of things, order- 
ing the horses for our rides, going for our 
mail, and making our advance reservations. 
Grandmother openly smiled on him, and we 
all agreed that he was indeed a gentleman. 
I liked him especially at tea-time when we 
four sat at a little table before the fire in 
the rotunda and talked of all sorts of things. 
It was rather a lazy time of day, and he 
looked so good and comfortable as he sat 
there, and told us of England and English 
ways. I hadn't forgotten Bob, I thought of 
him every hour of every day and wrote to 
him often, sometimes sending him as many 



38 MY MOUNTAIN TOPS 

as six post-cards in one day, but it was nice 
to have a man at hand, too. I had told Bob 
about Mr. Such, too, — not on the post-cards, 
though, — so my conscience was clear, and I 
could enjoy myself. Consequently, I was 
sorry to leave Banff, and no one could blame 
me, I am sure. 

It was early morning when we left. We 
had a little breakfast in the big dining-room, 
and in the cool, gray freshness of a Before- 
Sunrise kind of day we left the hotel in the 
big bus. Back we went to the little log sta- 
tion, and soon we were off for Laggan. As 
soon as we got on the observation car, grand- 
mother hurried right towards "her seat," as 
she called it, the one she liked best and al- 
most always got, right in the end of the 
train, by the big window and behind the door, 
so the draughts couldn't strike her. The 
Little Bride and Groom were with us too, 
and the school-teachers, and just at the last 
minute up came the Old Bride and Groom, 
sour and inefficient as ever. I had hoped 
that they had stayed behind in Banff the 
Beautiful, but they seemed to have planned 
to stay just as long as we did — and nothing 



LAKE LOUISE 39 

was able to part us. We had them clear 
through to the end. 

I soon forgot them, however, in the won- 
ders of that ride to Laggan. It only lasted 
a little more than an hour, but there was 
much to be seen. Most of the time the train 
threaded its way right along the banks of 
the Bow River, following its winding course 
between the great mountains, "a natural 
passage-way made by the great Engineer," 
grandmother said. The most stupendous of 
the mountains that we passed was Castle 
Mountain, and it was visible during almost 
all of the ride, — first, far away, hazy, indis- 
tinct, then more clearly defined, then marked 
with seeming passages, and even doors and 
windows of giant size, then looming larger 
and larger, until it fairly seemed to topple 
over us — then on and on — and on — and at 
last we left it far behind. 

"Laggan I" called the porter, and we 
gathered our possessions together and once 
more hurried out of the car. Laggan! A 
little mountain village of some dozen log huts 
and a few box cars, a regular Ralph Connor 
village, low-lying, crude and almost prime- 



40 MY MOUNTAIN TOPS 

val! The station resembled that at Banff, 
but was smaller, and open carry-alls awaited 
lis. This time we were to have a longer 
drive, for our guide-books had told us that 
the chalet is two and a half miles from the 
station, up over the mountains to an altitude 
of more than 5000 feet. 

Again I was so busy looking around that I 
was almost the last one arranged for, and as 
a result I was unusually favored, for a 
burly Canadian driver lifted me up to his 
seat and placed me beside a big, red-haired 
boy from Vancouver, who, with his father 
and mother, was traveling eastward. Boy 
I have written, but he was as old as I, a 
Junior in Lei and Stanford University and 
altogether wide-awake. We made friends 
immediately, somewhat unconventionally, it 
is true, but one couldn't possibly sit arm 
against arm with a person over two and a 
half miles of splendid mountain road in the 
dewy freshness of a 

"The Year's at the Spring, 
The Day's at the Morn. 



"God's in His Heaven, 
All's right with the World" 



LAKE LOUISE 41 

kind of morning, and say nothing. At least, 
I couldn't, especially when the person next 
happened to be a good-looking college boy 
with red hair. And please remember, 
mother and grandmother were sitting di- 
rectly behind me. 

Soon we were riding over the most won- 
derful mountain road, the most wonderful 
any-kind-of-road that I ever saw, following 
the curve of the mountains, turning abruptly 
around dizzy cliffs, crossing tremendous 
abysses, burying ourselves in the pine forests 
and emerging again to gaze far down into 
some distant wooded valley, or up to some 
gleaming glacier, — and all the time with the 
sound of that raging mountain stream, the 
only outlet of Lake Louise, swollen, mad 
with the spring rains and the melting snows, 
dinning itself into our consciousness. 

"Oh," I cried, "I have never seen so much 
water — never in my life!" And the red- 
haired boy laughed. 

"Wait," he said. "Wait until you go 
from here to Glacier ! You'll think the whole 
universe, sun, moon, and stars, have melted 
and are coming right down on your head I" 



42 MY MOUNTAIN TOPS 

Rather extravagant, that young man, but 
I liked him for it! 

Then a little chipmunk dashed across our 
path and I asked the driver if he had ever 
heard how the chipmunk got the five brown 
marks down its back. He never had, so I 
told him the whole story: how there was a 
famine in the land, years and years ago, 
when only the Indians dwelt here, and how 
one poor old Indian squaw was compelled 
to leave her almost dying babies and go out 
in search of food; how cold the winter was, 
and how, in spite of her long search, she 
could find nothing. Then, at last, when, 
almost frozen and empty-handed, in spite of 
her long search, she was about to turn 
towards home, a little chipmunk dashed 
across the road. The squaw rushed after 
it, clutched at it, felt it slide through her 
fingers — and saw it scamper away. And 
ever since that day the "chippie" has carried 
on its back the five brown marks of the poor 
Indian woman's dirty fingers. 

The driver smiled and said that he knew 
what those winters were, for often in those 
mountains it was very cold, and only the 



LAKE LOUISE 43 

winter before he had driven down to the sta- 
tion twice a day in a temperature of sixty 
below. I shivered, even in the bright cool 
air of that June morning, and the red-haired 
boy turned up his coat collar. 

Suddenly we came in sight of the chalet, 
then the lake came into view, and chipmunks, 
Indians, and cold, cold weather were all for- 
gotten. We turned into the porte-cochere, 
the red-haired boy helped me down, and we 
entered the famous Swiss chalet at Lake 
Louise. Hospitality beamed on every hand, 
again huge fire-places gave an air of cheer 
and comfort, great easy chairs, enormous 
couches, and cozy little desks invited to com- 
fort and correspondence, and again the little 
Japs were everywhere. English girls served 
as clerks at the desk, businesslike, but at- 
tractive in their soft black gowns, and eager 
to make us comfortable. I had already for- 
gotten Banff in the equal attractiveness of 
this unique place. 

Have you seen Lake Louise and this won- 
derful chalet, a home of luxury far up in 
the clouds, and two miles from a railroad? 
How can I, with my limited vocabulary, de- 



44 MY MOUNTAIN TOPS 

scribe it I Broad windows and long veran- 
das look out towards the lake, separated 
from it by only a rod of grass and a row 
of California poppies, over which slow- 
moving Chinamen in their tall hats and 
queer shoes are almost continually bending. 
And the lake itself? It is a wonderful 
mirror set in a frame of beauty. It reflects 
the light from a hundred peaks, each scintil- 
lating with snow, crowned with pines, or 
massed with rocks. It sparkles with color 
like a prism in sunlight, twenty shades of 
green, a dozen of blue, then a touch of gold, 
and off yonder, under the ledge of the moun- 
tain, a deep and lustrous brown. And every 
moment it changes, as the lights and shadows 
change, brilliant in sunlight, gloomy in 
shade, but always mystic and wonderful. 

It is only a little lake, a mile and a half 
long by half a mile wide, but on either side 
the mountains rise from its very edge, and far 
off at the other end, like a great veil across 
the face of Nature, is the famous Victoria 
Glacier. Along one edge of the lake is a 
path that leads past the boat-house, around 
the curve of the lake to the other end, and 



LAKE LOUISE 45 

scarcely had we been assigned to our rooms 
when I saw the Little Bride and Groom go 
strolling down its fragrant way. Mother 
and I soon followed, and the red-haired boy 
followed us. He was a very nice boy, half 
English (by birth) and half American (by 
education), and mother and I enjoyed hav- 
ing him along immensely. He had such a 
sense of the fitness of things and he wasn't 
always disturbing our thoughts with a lot of 
nonsense and empty flattery, as so many col- 
lege boys are. Mother had met his mother 
and father in the carry-all, too, and that 
night the six of us sat at one table and had 
a most delightful time. 

If the dining-room at Banff, with its Eng- 
lish air, had been delightful, this one at Lake 
Louise was even more so, for the cuisine was 
equally good and the dearest little Chinese 
boys served as waiters. They wore their na- 
tive costumes, tan at breakfast and luncheon, 
and at night they patriotically donned the 
Chinese royal colors, light blue and purple, 
and made indeed a festive scene, fifty of 
them, soft-footed and agile. It occurred to 
me that the Chinese waiters and the Japanese 



46 MY MOUNTAIN TOPS 

bell-boys might not always agree, and I 
asked the blonde English girl at the desk 
about it. She said, however, that they were 
thoroughly peaceable. I wrote that to Bob 
and he replied that if an English lace mer- 
chant and a very independent and patriotic 
American girl could get along so well, he'd 
not be surprised at anything ! ! 

We stayed at Lake Louise four days, and 
every day the red-haired boy and I took the 
most splendid trips together, up to the Lakes 
in the Clouds, to Moraine Lake and the Val- 
ley of the Ten Peaks, and down to Paradise 
Valley, always chaperoned, of course, by my 
mother or his, or some others whom we had 
met. By the third day we were calling each 
other by our first names and that afternoon 
as we stood looking down on the beautiful 
Moraine Lake, he said : 

''Lizette, will you let me write to you — 
and will you not forget me*? It's been such 
fun up here — and I hate to think that you're 
going on west, and I'm going east to-morrow. 
This is a jolly place!" 

And he laughed — ^but with a half-sadness 
in his eyes. 



LAKE LOUISE 47 

I put my hand on his arm and told him 
he might write, but that he would probably 
forget me soon, and at Banff, where he was 
going next, I knew he would meet lots of 
other girls who would see that he had a fine 
time there. He laughed again, but he took 
my fingers off of his arm, and standing there 
on the peak, we shook hands rather solemnly. 
Dear red-haired boy I I wrote that to Bob, 
too. 

That night when we got back to the 
chalet, grandmother had a funny little gleam 
in her eye and while I was dressing for din- 
ner she told me that Mr. Such of London 
was there, — that he had come over on the 
afternoon train and had been asking for me. 
Sure enough, when we went down to the 
lobby there he was, waiting to be asked to 
sit at our table, for he had left his English 
friends, and had come over from Banff alone. 
I looked at mother rather helplessly, for there 
was no room at our table, with the red-haired 
boy's family occupying the rest of the places, 
so mother explained that our table was full, 
but that we would see him after dinner in 
the lobby. He was a little disappointed, I 



48 MY MOUNTAIN TOPS 

think, but grandmother smiled at him and he 
smiled back in such an adoring, respectful 
way, and seemed quite contented. 

That night I really had more fun than I 
wanted ! I never did like to be a belle, but 
mother and grandmother helped me out 
beautifully and due to them a rather awk- 
ward situation turned out passably well. 
Mother is such a manager, and grandmother 
is so dear I You see, the red-haired boy 
had asked me to go boating with him in the 
clear, cool moonlight, and Mr. Such, I 
knew, wanted to talk and perhaps dance. I 
scarcely knew how to manage both, but 
finally mother went boating with us on that 
lovely, lovely lake, while grandmother talked 
to Mr. Such, and later the boy looked on 
while I danced with the Englishman. And 
during one of the dances that big man said: 

"I came over just to see you again, Miss 
United States! You must have a wonder- 
ful country down there to the South! I've 
always wanted to see it, but I've lacked a 
real incentive before. May I come to see 
it — and you — ^before I go back in the fall?" 



LAKE LOUISE 49 

Dear Englishman! In my most polite 
way I told him we would all be glad to see 
him when he came to our "Home of the 
Free," and I gave him my address. He 
didn't seem quite satisfied, and I was sorry 
to disappoint him, but I couldn't say any 
more — with the red-haired boy watching us 
— and my thoughts — way back with Bob. 
I wrote all this to Bob, too, — only not just 
as I've told it here. 

That night when we started up the stairs 
the red-haired boy, who was standing near, 
called after me : 

"Don't forget! I'm going to write. 
Good-bye!" and Mr. Such from London 
came close, and after bidding mother and 
grandmother farewell, said, very quietly: 

"Good-bye, Miss United States! I'm so 
glad to have known you!" 

Grandmother turned around and looked at 
both of them and smiled her dear, sweet, 
queer little smile. And then, as we turned 
away and I helped her a little up the stairs, 
she said to me, almost in a whisper: 

"And I'll give you Mr. Bob's ^Good- 



50 MY MOUNTAIN TOPS 

night.' Good-night, dear, good-night." And 
she reached up — and kissed me. 

I can't think of a better way to end this 
chapter than with some words that I found 
in a little book at Lake Louise. Who wrote 
them I do not know, for they are signed 
merely E. F. N. — but whoever and wherever 
you are, may I thank you for your verses! 
They are called: 

"Adieu to Lake Louise. 

"Unwilling feet I turn from there 
To seek my far-off home, 
Yet thy fair face I still shall see 
Wherever I may roam. 
For beauty seen remains for aye, 
Strengthening the heart along Life's way." 

Thank you, unknown friend, — and "Adieu 
to Lake Louise !" 



IV 

THE SPIRIT OF THE ROCKIES 

It was raining when we left Lake Louise. 
The morning had dawned hesitatingly and a 
gray mist overhung the mountains and the 
lake, obscuring the glacier at the farther end 
and turning the colors of the lake, chameleon- 
like, to tones and shades of the same soft 
gray. In the lobby people were discussing 
disappointed plans for the day in the sub- 
dued voices that most of us unconsciously 
adopt in the early morning, when Sleep seems 
still to be near us and we seem afraid of 
disturbing him. Those of us who were 
leaving had donned water-proofs and 
"slickers" and when the buses drove up to 
the door, curtained and closed, we were 
ready for the drive down the mountains. 
Bags by the dozen were attended to first and 
then five busloads of people said good-bye 
to Lake Louise and settled themselves as 
comfortably as they could in their rather 
crowded quarters. 

51 



52 MY MOUNTAIN TOPS 

In our carry-all were the Old Bride and 
Groom, two sisters from New York State, 
one a widow and the other a rather delicate 
girl of perhaps twenty-five, a bachelor of at 
least fifty from Pennsylvania, silent and 
obviously shy, the very efficient and inde- 
pendent but fine-looking principal of a girls' 
school in Chicago, and a handsome doctor 
and his wife from Quebec who were celebra- 
ting their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary 
by taking this trip. Grandmother sat be- 
tween mother and me and she was so 
wrapped in shawls and scarfs that only her 
dear little sparkling blue eyes showed. En- 
closed as we were by the curtains of the 
carry-all, there was little that we could see, 
and the jolting as we drove over rocks and 
into ruts prevented any very continuous con- 
versation. The roads were rough and the 
grating of the brakes as we turned the sharp 
corners or slid down the steeper grades 
frightened the more nervous of the party and 
the Old Bride was nearly paralyzed with 
fear. Clutching the Old Groom, she real- 
ized all my anticipations concerning her and 
complained of everything in a querulous 



THE SPIRIT OF THE ROCKIES 53 

voice with a touch of unreasoning impatience 
in it that would have driven a less dull person 
than the Old Groom mad. The rest of us 
listened with the subdued manner of those 
who are trying to appear oblivious of un- 
pleasant occurrences but are obliged to hear, 
and all the time the rain beat down in a per- 
fect torrent on the roof of the carry-all. 

Laggan at last — and the train for Glacier ! 

The observation car was crowded, for this 
was to be the scenic part of the trip from 
the train, and it was with difficulty that we 
found seats. The aisle was filled with camp 
chairs and everyone was on the qui vive for 
the things that were to be seen. Nor did we 
have long to wait, for almost before we had 
taken off our wraps and become settled for 
the ride we entered the Kicking Horse Pass, 
and from that time until we passed Field, 
some three hours later, we were continually 
watching and exclaiming,— feeling and emo- 
tion strained to the utmost. 

Six miles from Laggan we reached the 
summit of the Pvockies, and the place where, 
by one of those curious freaks of nature, the 
waters of a little stream divide, one tiny 



^4 MY MOUNTAIN TOPS 

rivulet flowing to the east, to mingle its 
waters with the ice-cold tides of Hudson 
Bay, and die other to the west, where it 
finally loses itself in the warm currents of 
the mighty Pacific. Over the forking of the 
little stream stands a rustic arch, with the 
words. The Great Divide, formed in it. 

Soon we came to Hector and between there 
and Field we were almost afraid to snatch 
a second from our watching lest we should 
miss something of the wonders of the view. 
Here is one of the greatest engineering feats 
of the century, for, in order to reduce the 
grade, the road has been made twice as long 
as it need be, had it been possible to follow 
a bee-line from place to place, and here too 
are the famous spiral tunnels. A plunge 
into the darkness, a few minutes of silence, 
in which one distinctly feels the turning of 
the train, — then dawn, morning again, — and 
the stupendous view of a vista not to be sur- 
passed in any land! Mount Stephen, most 
massive and sublime of all the Rockies, 
Mount Field, Mount Ogden, Cathedral 
Mountain, all lifting their snowy peaks and 
their ice-filled crevices to the blue of the sky, 



THE SPIRIT OF THE ROCKIES 55 

— marvelous, sublime beyond words, — and 
between and around them a dozen val- 
leys, some barren, some filled with pines, 
or rocks, or the eternal cold of never- 
melting snow, others in shadow, still others 
thundering with torrents, or spread out 
in grassy plateaus. Have you ever im- 
agined or dreamed that you were an eagle, 
soaring higher and higher, on and up, until 
finally a state or a nation perhaps lay spread 
out like a map before you in panoramic 
splendor? Such a view it is that one gets 
from the train at this place, and such a sensa- 
tion, bird-like and eyrie, one feels as he 
emerges to the view. 

Another corkscrew tunnel under Wapta 
Mountain, an elliptical curve, a maze of 
track, crossing above and then below, Kick- 
ing Horse River again, foaming, tossing, 
raging, — like an angry beast in full career, — 
and again a view from a lofty point, far 
down the emerald plains of Yoho Valley. 
Field is passed and Mount Burgess, and we 
feel the descending slope as we go gradually 
down the western side of the range. 

During all this a scene of almost equal 



56 MY MOUNTAIN TOPS 

though different interest was presented in the 
observation car. A rush to this side and 
that as the view varied with the turns of 
the road, strangers jostling strangers in a 
friendly rivalry to get to the windows, — Ohs 
and Ahs — continually, in many tones and in 
various stages of excitement, — camp-chairs 
overturned, — a practical joker calling our at- 
tention to nothing at all and making fun of 
the more impulsive sightseers, — an elderly 
gentleman sitting down abruptly on a youth's 
Derby hat, innocently deposited on that par- 
ticular chair just a second before, — and a 
devoted bridegroom, grasping grandmother's 
hand instead of his bride's in a moment of 
unusual excitement! 

I began to realize the truth of the red- 
haired boy's prophecy — "Wait until you go 
to Glacier, — and you'll think the whole uni- 
verse has melted" — for never, in very truth, 
have I seen so much water. Almost all day 
we rode along the Kicking Horse River, in 
its narrow canyon, and no words could de- 
scribe that stream more actually than its ex- 
tremely suitable name does. It is a verita- 
ble runaway as well as a kicking horse, 



THE SPIRIT OF THE ROCKIES 57 

plunging, tearing, foaming, roaring, filled to 
overflowing and continually reenforced by 
the thousands of almost perpendicular tor- 
rents fed by the melting snows and receding 
glaciers far up in the mountains. A world 
of water — clear as crystal and cool as can be I 

The noise of these torrents is tremendous 
and often our voices were drowned and we 
paused in our conversation until the insistent 
voice of the waters had ceased. We crossed 
the river again and again, clinging to this 
side, then to that, then back again, swaying 
and rushing, until we too seemed filled with 
the spirit of the waters. And until three 
o'clock, for our train was later, we rushed 
through that canyon, then through dark, 
vista-destroying snow-sheds, then across a 
little valley, — and up again, along the east- 
ern slope of the Selkirks, to Glacier. 

A swing around one side of a huge horse- 
shoe brought us up to the station at Glacier, 
which, with the hotel, is situated almost im- 
mediately in its center, — a sudden drop far 
down a dangerous ravine on the right, and 
the little, mountain-enclosed valley on the 
left, with the glacier itself, nearer, clearer, 



58 MY MOUNTAIN TOPS 

and more brilliant than any we had seen, 
away at the farther end. Here the hotel is 
right at the station and we were soon made 
comfortable again by the very spirit of old- 
time English hospitality which the place 
breathes forth. 

Not so many had left the train here as at 
Banff and Laggan, and as we registered, or 
rather, as mother did, I looked for our friends 
of the other places. I had said good-bye to 
the teachers at Laggan, for they were going 
to stay longer than we, and to the Little 
Bride and Groom on the train, for they were 
not stopping at Glacier. We still had the 
Old Bride and Groom with us, however, 
and the Quebec doctor and his wife, and 
the Pennsylvania bachelor. Other guests 
crowded into the lobby to see the new- 
comers and among them were two girls of 
about my own age, American girls they were, 
too, — and I was delighted to see them. 
Later they introduced to us the clerk at the 
desk, a slender young man with black hair 
and a charming smile, but a rather sad ex- 
pression. Included in his duties was that of 
helping to entertain the guests, and in the par- 



THE SPIRIT OF THE ROCKIES $9 

lor before a roaring fire, in the cool gray 
evening time, he played and sang, and talked 
to us. 

One night he told us girls stories of the 
mountains, of hunting and fishing trips, of 
the many guests, some of them celebrities, 
who came to the hotel, — and then, as the 
fire grew lower and more of the older people 
went to their rooms, he told us of his student 
days in Montreal and of his home, which he 
had not seen for eight years, across the sea 
in Merrie England. It was so interesting! 
And still later, one dark night, when all the 
girls had gone and only a few older people 
were left in the parlor, writing, and reading 
the Canadian papers, he told me of his sister, 
Azalia, who, he said, had looked like me, who 
had gray eyes, too, — and who had died since 
he had been in Canada. After that we sat 
still a long, long time before the fire, and 
I tried to think of something comforting to 
say. He was so lonesome, and so anxious to 
go back home — poor boy! But somehow 
the words wouldn't come — and I just sat 
there longer still, and said nothing. At last 
he looked at me, and when he saw the tears 



6o MY MOUNTAIN TOPS 

in my eyes, he touched my sleeve lightly and 
said : 

"Forgive me, — I am sorry. But it has 
helped me so much to talk to you, — you — 
you — second Azalia! You're so like her — 
and I'm so anxious to go home I" 

And he got up, said good-night in a tired 
sort of way — and closed the door softly be- 
hind him. 

Mother had been sitting near, reading, but 
she had heard every word. When he had gone 
she laid aside her paper and called me to her. 

"Lizette," she said, "Lizette^dear !" 

And when I sat down on a stool by her 
side, she added: 

"I just wanted to be sure you were here, — 
you — second Azalia!" 

And she pinched my arm. Dear Mother ! 

That night I wrote a long letter to Bob. 
I had so much to tell him — all about the ride 
from Laggan — and how grand Glacier was, 
and about the girls and the poor sad English 
clerk. But it was weeks before he got it, — 
not till after the — difficulty — was all settled, 
and he didn't mind what I wrote. But if he 
had received it — if he had — I'm getting 



THE SPIRIT OF THE ROCKIES 61 

ahead of my story and must stop right here 
before I give the secret away, — the great big 
splendid secret that straightened everything 
out and made everything right. 



V 



MY MOUNTAIN TOPS 

I HAVE said that the hotel at Glacier is in a 
little valley, on a curve of the railroad, with 
the mountains all around and the glacier in 
the distance. It is only a little valley, not 
a quarter of a mile across, and on either side 
the mountains rise, green as the slopes of the 
Emerald Isle, clothed in their pines and hem- 
locks, and oh — so fragrant! The very air 
seems alive I Opposite the hotel is a water- 
fall, a little torrent which falls almost per- 
pendicularly for more than two hundred feet 
and which can be heard from the hotel all 
the time. It and the mountain stream that 
flows through the valley beside the hotel, 
springing right out from the foot of the 
glacier, make a regular accompaniment for 
the other sounds of voices, and laughter, and 
the calls that the rocks echo back. It is a 
quiet spot and for several days we merely 
rested and read and took our promenades 
near the hotel. Grandmother was a little 
62 



MY MOUNTAIN TOPS 63 

tired when we reached Glacier and so it 
wasn't until the morning of our fourth day 
there that we started out on the expedition 
of that place, the trip to the glacier, — two 
miles away up the mountains. 

It was nine o'clock when we left the hotel, 
grandmother, mother, the English clerk, the 
Pennsylvania bachelor, and I. Both the 
men had, of course, made the trip before, — 
the clerk, many times, — but they asked to 
go with us and we were glad to have them. 
It was cloudy when we started, cool and de- 
lightful, a "day of rest and gladness" indeed, 
and I felt like a real wood-sprite, a dryad or 
some fantastic child of the forest, as I started 
out, dressed in a green suit, the color of the 
trees, and barehaired and care-free. We 
had found a cane for grandmother, a great 
gnarled stick, but she used it very little, for 
the Pennsylvania bachelor helped her on one 
side all the way up, and the rest of us took 
turns on the other side, when the path was 
wide enough to permit three to walk abreast. 

We crossed the little bridge at the sta- 
tion, turned to the right, and the gradual 
climb began. It scarcely seemed possible 



64 MY MOUNTAIN TOPS 

that it was two miles to the foot of that 
glacier, gleaming there at the end of the 
valley and I plunged ahead, up the grassy 
trail, the clerk after me, as though I expected 
to reach it at the end of a 22o-yard dash. 
The slope was steeper than it seemed, how- 
ever, and soon I sat down on a log, pant- 
ing and laughing, glad to rest until mother 
and the others came up. The clerk laughed 
at my eagerness — at my haste in reaching 
the glacier — but I was anxious to see it — 
and in a few minutes on we went. 

By this time we were in the forest itself, 
the hotel was behind us, the glacier was con- 
cealed by the trees, and only the trail marked 
the existence of men. Here and there 
violets and spring beauties were peeping 
through the mossy ground, for the spring is 
late up there in those northern mountains, 
and even then, the last of June, the dainty 
little harbingers looked chilly and afraid. 
The clerk picked some for me and I stuck 
them in my belt, "to keep them warm," he 
said. On we went — and at last we emerged 
to an open space where we could see the 
glacier again, looming still nearer, while 



MY MOUNTAIN TOPS 65 

right at hand was a great clear patch of 
snow. Snow, enough for snowballs, — the 
last week in June I And while grandmother 
rested, the clerk and mother and I engaged 
in the youthful pastimes of snow-balling and 
washing one another's faces. Even the sh}' 
bachelor joined in the fun and the clerk took 
off his hat and rubbed his shiny bald head 
with the equally shiny cold snow. 

Then a race across the open space, into the 
trees again, along that roaring mountain 
stream, always up, and when next we emerged 
we had reached the stony ground that 
marks the former foot of the glacier. Each 
year, the clerk said, that mountain of ice 
recedes about thirt3^-five feet, and for per- 
haps half a mile we walked over stones and 
pebbles, some large as a pumpkin, others 
small, and all smooth and white and wet. 
Everywhere were little rivulets trickling out 
from the foot of the glacier to form the 
stream below. In one place we almost had 
to wade, and there the clerk and the bachelor 
made a saddle of their hands and carried 
grandmother across, dry and comfortable as 
could be. The walking here was not easy, 



66 MY MOUNTAIN TOPS 

but we did not mind, for we were near the 
glacier. Soon we reached its foot, touched 
it, stepped on the lower edges, and tried to 
realize where we were and what it was that 
we were doing. So events seem so often 
like dreams in the night! We think of the 
things we are going to do, we plan for them, 
we imagine our feelings and prepare our 
emotions, — and when the anticipation ar- 
rives^ it is there — and gone — and we can 
scarcely realize that the forms of our visions 
have really come to pass. 

The sun had come out and in that light 
the glacier gleamed a brilliant, translucent 
bluish-white. A mountain of ice, sloping 
gradually in a long field from the ground, 
broken here and there by rifts or crevices, 
then rising more abruptly, widening, spread- 
ing, and crowned, far above, with great ice 
peaks, whose size and distance we could not 
even conjecture I A real glacier, of which 
I had read years ago in Miss Mill's fourth 
grade geopraphy class, but which I had never 
been able to visualize and of which I had 
had the most hazy ideas, — one of the mys- 
teries of Nature, formed thousands of years 



MY MOUNTAIN TOPS 67 

ago, changing little, an ever-present monu- 
ment to the eternity of God. 

Above us only a little distance were the 
first of the crevices and, in order that I might 
see down one of them, the clerk had thought 
to bring a strong rope along. Tying it 
around his waist, and giving the other end 
to the bachelor to hold, he climbed, on hands 
and knees, and with much care, slowly up 
that icy slope, ten, twenty, thirty feet. 
There he found a notch where he could place 
his feet, and so braced, he called to me to 
follow; and I, holding to the taut rope, 
climbed up to his side. 

The crevice which he had reached was 
only about two feet wide, but by leaning 
over its edge we could look far down those 
bluish-white translucent depths. A cloud 
moved across the face of the sun and the 
gray of its tones was reflected and intensi- 
fied in the crevice. Then it passed away, 
and the dazzling rays of the sun as they 
sped far down into those icy depths changed 
to glittering silver and sapphire as they 
went. The clerk said that at evening, at 
the time of sunset, all the gorgeous shades 



68 MY MOUNTAIN TOPS 

of red and pink and purple were reflected in 
t±ie crevices and on the peaks ; and I wondered 
if the stars don't use the glaciers for mirrors, 
and if in the evening, before they start hand 
in hand down the Milky Way, they don't 
toss their golden curls before those sparkling, 
glassy planes. They look coquettish enough 
to do it — at least, those little twinkling girl- 
stars do ! 

The black-eyed clerk had me sit down be- 
side him, and arm in arm we slid down the 
ice to where mother and the rest were wait- 
ing. The bachelor looked at his watch and 
the clerk started up in haste. We had 
climbed slowly, and he was due at the hotel 
when the noon train came in from the East I 
So, waving his cap to us, he dashed off across 
the rocks, leaving mother and grandmother 
and the bachelor and me to follow more 
slowly: I really would rather have gone on 
with the clerk, for it would have been such fun 
to run down those trails as I knew he meant 
to do, but mother shook her head, — and I 
stayed behind. The bachelor had promised 
to take us down by another path, she said, — 
one that was equally as beautiful as that by 



MY MOUNTAIN TOPS 69 

which we had ascended, — and I was content. 
After all, I wasn't in a hurry to leave that 
gleaming glacier, which I might never see 
again, nor the pine-breathed freshness of the 
mountain forests, and neither were the rest, 
so we sauntered down the new trail, pausing 
here and there to gather ferns, or violets, or 
the gorgeous Indian paint-brushes, or to let 
grandmother rest on a flat stone or a mossy 
log, — and long before we reached the hotel 
we heard the train whistle and wondered 
whether the clerk had reached it in time. 

We were strolling along leisurely, and I, 
in front, was thinking of the splendid times 
I had had, — at Banff with Mr. Such, at 
Laggan with the red-haired boy, and there 
at Glacier with the lonesome English clerk, — 
when I saw a man approaching away down 
below on that winding path. I merely 
caught a glimpse of him, and at first I was a 
little frightened, for I was quite a distance 
ahead of mother and the rest. I paused a 
minute — and almost started back. Then I 
decided that it was probably some one whom 
we had met at the hotel — or perhaps it was 
the clerk, coming back to meet us. On 



70 MY MOUNTAIN TOPS 

second thought, however, I knew that it 
couldn't be he, because he would be busy 
assigning rooms and looking after the com- 
fort of the newly-arrived guests. Next, I 
wondered if it could be Mr. Such — I scarcely 
knew why — ^but I did think of him — and it 
wasn't until he was fairly upon me, and I 
was caught in his arms, that I saw who it 
really was. 

"Bob— Bob !" I cried— "Bob, dear !" For 
Bob had come! And right there in the 
path he kissed me, and kissed me, — scolding 
me all the time. 

"Lizette, Lizette, — you wraith, — you dar- 
ling!" Then he pushed me away gently, 
and added, "You torment, — you pest, — you 
uncertain lady, — you — " 

And what names he might have called me 
I don't know, but just then mother and 
grandmother and the bachelor came around 
a bend in the path, and he rushed off to greet 
them. 

Dear, blessed Bob ! I could not realize that 
he was there I I had left him at home dash- 
ing around in an automobile, making calls, 
giving quinine, amputating legs, and doing 



MY MOUNTAIN TOPS 71 

all sorts of fearful and wonderful things, 
and at night drilling a lot of Boy Scouts 
and taking them to church, — and here he 
was away up there in the Canadian moun- 
tains, two thousand miles from home, — ^my 
big, strong, strapping, kind-hearted Bob! I 
didn't understand it at all, and while he was 
talking to mother and grandmother, I tried 
my best to think zc;Aj he was there, and 
how it happened that he thought he could 
leave all those sick people and those bad 
boys who adored him but would be managed 
by no one else. 

Then I remembered the names he had 
called me, — "Pest, — Torment, — Uncertain 
lady," — and I knew. Mr. Such and the red- 
haired boy had made him come ! He hadn't 
heard of the English clerk yet, — I felt sure 
he hadn't had time to get that letter, and I 
was glad enough of it ! Had I worried him*? 
But wasn't it fun? And the most fun of all 
was that Bob was there, — there in the moun- 
tains, — and there with me! 

That afternoon we climbed up to the 
summer-house together, — mother let me go 
with just Bob, — and there he told me all 



72 MY MOUNTAIN TOPS 

about it, how my letters had worried him, 
and how anyway he was "sick to see me," 
and how he had left everything, two typhoid 
patients and a little boy with the scarlet 
fever, to come to me, away across the coun- 
try — up in the mountains. And last of all, 
he said : 

"And I've brought you something, Lizette, 
to warn those fellows off with I It means 
everything to me — everything that I am and 
have I" 

And out of his pocket he pulled a little 
velvet box, — such a little box, — and inside 
it (of course you'll guess!) was a big, big 
diamond ring! 

Naturally, I couldn't resist that^ when 
Boh gave it to me, — and up there in the little 
summer-house, with that whole valley spread 
out like a picture before us, — in the most 
beautiful place (to me) in the world, and 
in the midst of the stillness of God, — I put on 
Bob's ring! It was like a Sacrament. 

And Bob and I were happy. 



The story really ends here, but there is a 



MY MOUNTAIN TOPS 73 

sequel to it, and here it is, appended for the 
benefit of curious readers. 

Bob stayed with us at Glacier for two days 
and then he went back to the typhoid pa- 
tients and the boy with the scarlet fever, as 
was his Duty to do. Mother and grand- 
mother and I spent most of the summer in 
the West, but we are at home now, and I 
see Bob every day. School begins again 
next week, and I shall be a Senior; and then 
in June, just after Commencement, Bob and 
I are going to be married. That's the big- 
gest and best sequel of all ! 

As to the others, — last week Mr. Such 
wrote to me that he was going to be in 
Chicago, and would like to come to see me. 
I replied that I would be glad to have him 
come, that we all would, but that I wanted 
him to know that I was engaged to Bob, 
and he answered with the following note : 

"Dear Miss United States: 

"There was a little girl, (Lizette.) 
Who had a little curl, (Brown.) 

Right down the middle of her forehead, (Treacher- 
ous.) 



74 MY MOUNTAIN TOPS 

And when she was good, (Fine!) 
She was very, very good, (Splendid!) 
But when she was bad, (Ugh!) 
She was Horrid!' (! ! !) 

"Hearty congratulations for Mr. Bob, 
and best wishes for you I Kindest regards 
to the 'Grossmutter' and 'Ma Mere'! 
Thanks I Should like immensely to see you, 
but must hurry on to New York I 

"Harold Such." 

Wasn't that fine of him? 

The red-haired boy sent me a letter to 
Glacier, written while he was at Banff, and 
I wrote him a long one in return and told 
him all about how Bob had come for me, 
and what our joyous plans were. He was 
such a dear red-haired boy! And this was 
his answer : 

"Dear Lizette, — Such a girl! Such a 
peach! And such a shame to marry a 
doctor I Here's my sympathy — you'll need 
it — and all the congratulations in the world 
to the man ! He's a lucky dog! 

"But Lizette, — three days of your life be- 



MY MOUNTAIN TOPS 75 

long to me, — and Lake Louise begins with 
the same letter as Lizette I Pater and Mater 
send best wishes, and I second theirs with all 
my heart I You're a peach I 

"Says 'Red-Hair.' " 

Of course the homesick English clerk met 
Bob and he quite understood the situation 
before we left Glacier. I didn't tell him, 
but he saw the big diamond and understood. 
I shall never forget him as he looked the day 
we left. He stood on the station platform 
to wave us good-bye, and as I leaned over 
the Observation railing, he said : 

"Two more months, and I'll leave, too, — 
for the East — Montreal — and then Eng- 
land! You've helped a lot, — Azalia the 
second, — ^m}^ sister!" 

And he kissed my hand in such a boyish 
way. Dear fellow! I wonder whether it 
w^as a dreadfully sad home-coming, — and 
Azalia not there! Perhaps he will write 
and tell me. 

Grandmother is sewing, and mother is 
reading this as I write it, here in our dear. 



76 MY MOUNTAIN TOPS 

old-fashioned library. There's no place like 
it in the world — it's just so cozy and 
"home-yl" Outside the birds are singing 
and the leaves are just beginning to turn. 
It's a beautiful September day — and I'm as 
happy as can be ! 

Bob is coming! — I hear the car, — and his 
dear, deep voice callng me, — and — I must 
go to meet him I 

Mother — and grandmother- — and Bob — 
and my own United States — and the happy 
world ahead I 

But Canada is fine I 



DEC 28 1912 



